


Deadliest Catch

by succubusybody



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Broken Promises, Captivity, Dark, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Kinda, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Loss of Virginity, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rey Has Sharp Teeth, Scientist Ben, Violent Thoughts, Weird Shock Collar Sex, inexperienced Rey, she knows nothing about humans or human anatomy, survival sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 21:47:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17816090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/succubusybody/pseuds/succubusybody
Summary: Rey has been a subject in this research facility for weeks. When Dr. Ben Solo makes her an offer, she thinks she can use that to her advantage. Fishermen have always done stupid things for sirens - he should be no different.





	Deadliest Catch

**Author's Note:**

> Tagged for extreme dubcon because it's essentially survival sex - allowing it to happen to get something in return - and also because she doesn't understand what's going on. Tagging this was weird because I wasn't sure how to tag her extreme cluelessness about humankind. Please let me know if I missed anything.

The water buzzes to life - the vibration of metal scraping metal as one of the strange fishermen enters the metal cave they’d put her in. A moment later, the lights flicker on. Too bright. Not natural. Not much she can do about it, either.

Rey tries her best to ignore it; she hopes that they’ll leave her alone this time. Maybe they’re just watching. They do that, sometimes: stare and stare and stare and scratch notes onto boards in their hands.

No such luck. His voice floats through the water, heavily distorted but impossible not to hear. She can’t ignore him, now - unless she wants to suffer the consequences. Regretfully, she leaves the soft sand floor behind and swims toward the sound. When she breaks the surface, it’s only just barely: she feels safer when she’s submerged. With her eyes and ears above water, she can see and hear him clearly - he doesn’t need anything else from her.

All the fishermen here are odd. They don’t look like any of the ones that had pulled her out of the sea, having traded their boots and shiny, brightly-colored clothing for long white coats and pointless bits of fabric wrapped around their necks.

This one looks even funnier than normal. She recognizes him: out of all of them, he stares the most. He doesn’t even always take notes. She’d recognize those dark, serious eyes anywhere.

Even now, when he’s out of that bizarre white coat. No boots, no brightly-colored clothing. She’s never seen a fisherman dressed like this, not that she’s seen _many_ ; his sleeves stop just beyond the shoulders. This is more skin than she’s ever seen a fisherman show, even from the females. He smiles and she flicks her tail impatiently.

All fishermen are dangerous. On land, on boats… doesn’t matter. She doesn’t trust him.

“Are you hungry?”

The question is… surprising. Rey’s brows furrow. Hungry? They feed her on a regular schedule, like an animal in a cage. That’s what she is, to them, she figures. They keep her alive to stare and poke at, and scribble things down about. Maybe she’s the first one they’ve ever caught. She doesn’t know.

“I could get you food, if you wanted. Real food. Not more raw fish.” Even his tone is different; warmer. The words he uses are simpler. They usually bark about her as though she isn’t there.

Her brows remain furrowed as she gives her head a quick shake. She doesn’t want fisherman food. She _likes_ fish.

He sighs and crouches at the edge of the metal ledge where they always gather. She stares back at him, but she can’t read his expression. She doesn’t like that.

“I’ll take that thing off your face,” he offers finally. She blinks, tries to find a hint of humor in his face… but finds none. They fitted her with a mask like a muzzle, covering the bottom half of her face, the very first day after seeing the carnage she’d left behind on the fishing boat. Fangs are dangerous. She’s dangerous.

And he’s willing to risk it?

Feeling bolder, braver, she swims a bit higher and a bit closer. Water laps at her breasts, and she notices when his eyes flicker, just for a moment, to look. He can’t see the smile behind her mask, and for that, she’s grateful - he’s foolish, but he doesn’t need to know that she’s noticed. 

She points at the collar around her neck - the real nuisance. She could deal with the mask; she can lift it just enough to eat. But they’d strapped this thing onto her, metal prongs digging into her throat to deliver a vicious shock when she speaks. They weren’t willing to keep wearing the ear plugs; she’d been made to suffer. If he wants to convince her, he’ll need to do something special.

He laughs, and for a minute she thinks she’s overplayed her hand, but then he nods. “Sure.” Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid fisherman. Her smile widens, the corners of her eyes crinkling, and she claps to let him know she’s excited.

But he holds up a finger. “You’ll have to do something for me, though.”

The smile fades, and she swims closer, like he’s going to whisper a secret in her ear. As far as she’s concerned, he is. He leans in even further, but not close enough for her to pull him in the water.

Smarter than she thought. Maybe. 

“I want you to get out of the water for me,” he says, one eyebrow raising just a little. Rey frowns. She knows what happens when sirens dry off, but she’s never done it. Never wanted to, either. But if it means a chance to get this shit off her…

Swallowing her unease, she nods. He grins like he’s proud of himself and holds out a hand.

Every part of her screams not to take it, but she does.

He lifts her out of the water like she weighs nothing. The last time this happened, she was tangled in a net, and even then the waves crashing over the side of the boat had made her feel safe. Now, as he sets her down on the ledge, there’s nothing to make her feel safe. She’s only vulnerable.

“I’m Ben,” he says, like it matters. She nods like she cares. He’ll be dead within the hour if this goes well.

It only takes a few minutes for her to start shedding her scales; they clatter to the ground each time she shifts. She watches him as he watches her transformation with some sort of awe. All of the white-coated fishermen stare at her this way. She doesn’t mind much. If anything, it’s a welcome distraction from the tearing sensation as her tail splits in two.

Once the feeling is gone, she looks down to see her tail replaced by two human-looking legs. She’s just like him, now, and she hates it. With a sigh, she pushes the scales over the side of the ledge and watches as they float to the bottom.

Behind her, Ben clears his throat. She looks over her shoulder and he waves a hand. God, what she wouldn’t give to drag him into the water - but she needs the mask off. 

She holds out both hands for him, now, and he helps pull her up, laughing and draping his shoulder under her arm when her legs bow beneath her weight. “You’ve never used these before?” He’s laughing like they’re sharing an inside joke, and she forces a smile. It doesn’t feel good to need his help. She gets the sense that he’s enjoying her helplessness, and it makes her bristle. 

Carefully, he guides them toward the door, going slow as she figures out how to take one step and then another. She watches carefully as he pulls on a piece of plastic attached to his belt and waves it in front of a red light, which turns green. He lets go of the piece of plastic and the string zips it back to his belt as the door scrapes open.

When she reaches out to touch the plastic, he swats her hand away. “Don’t touch the keycard.” For a second, his expression is… _different_. It fades before she can figure out what it means, replaced by a smile. “Now come on, clumsy. Watch your step.”

She’s never been past this door, she thinks as he helps her step over the threshold. Maybe this was a mistake. She doesn’t know where they’re going; though she looks around wildly, each corridor looks the same. Wide and empty. Even if she kills him, she doesn’t know where to go. He does. He turns this way and that without a second thought. She’d _have_ to kill him; there’s no way she’d get away from him otherwise. And she’d have to do it quietly. No telling if there’s other fishermen around.

He stops so suddenly that she stumbles and swipes the plastic again - keycard - to open another door. Still wobbly, but much better at walking than she had been at first, she takes a few steps into the room. There’s are things in here that she only somewhat recognizes: the big box with many drawers looks just like one she’d seen on a sunken ship, and it’d been filled with clothes. There’s something covered in blankets that she knows is soft to touch and squishy beneath weight, like a nest for fishermen.

There’s certainly no food, raw fish or otherwise. 

Rey frowns and turns to face him. He’s still smiling, but this smile looks different. Not right. She takes a wobbly step backwards and points to her collar again.

“I’ll take the mask off,” he says, taking a step towards her. “But for the collar, you’ll have to do something else for me.”

That hadn’t been the deal, but she nods anyway. The collar is all that really matters. As soon as it’s off, he’s a goner. Whatever she has to endure before that… well, it couldn’t be that bad. Ben makes a circle motion with his finger and she turns around quickly; having the mask off will still be nice. 

He fumbles, but the moment she’s free her hands fly up, fingertips pressing to cheeks and jaw and lips in a way that she hasn’t done in weeks. 

She barely has a chance to enjoy it. He pushes forward, and she isn’t steady enough on her feet to stand much of a chance, stumbling wherever he guides her. Her breath hitches, and she’s confused, but he doesn’t stop to explain himself. He shoves her again, more roughly this time, and she realizes he’s guiding her to the nest. With another rough push, she spills over it.

Rey tries to roll onto her back to frown at him, but he presses a hand against the back of her neck, pinning her in place. She huffs in frustration, hands scrabbling to try to swat at him like he’d done to her. All she manages to grab is the keycard, which she pulls out as far as she can before letting it snap back.

“Stay still,” he grunts as he nudges her legs apart. She puffs again, louder this time, so he knows she’s not happy. “Yeah, yeah,” he replies, his hand leaving his back to do… something. She’s not sure what.

Ben spits, and then she’s being torn apart. A panicked yelp slips through her lips, cut off suddenly by the zap of the collar searing into her throat; if the pain he’s inflicting on her wasn’t enough to make her eyes water, the burn certainly is.

“It’s not that bad,” he tells her, like he knows how it feels. She gives up on trying to squirm enough to get him to stop, instead squeezing the blanket beneath her in tight fists and shaking her head beneath his hand. “It’s _not_ ,” he insists, and through the pain she can start to feel something drag out of her before plunging back in. “If you’d relax, you might actually like it. I promise.”

She doesn’t believe him. Sniffling pitifully, she cranes her neck, cheek still plastered to the blanket by the weight of his hand, to see what he’s doing that could possibly feel this way. Even more skin is exposed, now, with his pants pushed down around his thighs. 

The pain starts to subside, but she still doesn’t like it. No one ever told her that fishermen do _this_ , whatever it is. Each time his hips draw back, she feels empty; each time they snap forward, she’s filled to the brim with an uncomfortable pressure. Skin slaps against skin. She squeezes her eyes shut and tries not to think about it -

_Oh._

Something changes, though she’s not sure what. She’s still afraid, but another feeling twists somewhere deep in her stomach, too. Her legs squeeze together and she whimpers, just softly enough to not get shocked; he laughs at her. Rey blushes.

“Told you,” he grunts, free hand gripping her waist just a little too tightly as he swears under his breath. She doesn’t want to like this. She wants him to be wrong. This _is_ wrong. Invasive. Not normal.

But his next stroke hits something inside of her just right, and she can’t help but cry out, shoulders tensing with a wince as her pleasure is punished with another shock.

Ben pushes into her roughly, quicker than he had been, the pace suddenly sporadic and confusing - and then she’s completely empty. A moment later, something warm spurts across her back, and her lip curls in disgust. _Ew_. She doesn’t want his… fluids. 

They remain like that for a long moment as he tries to steady his breathing. Rey flinches as something soft drags along her back; the second his hand is off the back of her head, she scrambles to sit up, turning to see the top half of him now completely naked. Her eyes dart down to something hanging between his legs - though it doesn’t look nearly as hard as it had felt when she’d thought he was splitting her in half. 

His weird no-sleeved soft piece of clothing is bunched up in his hand, and he uses it to wipe himself off before hitching his pants back up around his waist. Rey waves her hands wildly and points to the collar around her neck. She hadn’t just let him do…. _that_ for nothing.

“Yeah, right,” he says with a laugh. Her heart sinks. She watches as he walks to a piece of furniture she doesn’t recognize and opens one side of it, rummaging around before holding up a container for her to see. Raising his eyebrows, he tosses it into her lap; she hisses as it hits her skin. Cold. Too cold. He tosses her a spoon, too.

“Ice cream.” He closes the thing he’d gotten it from and crosses his arms. “It’s good. Open it up. You deserve it.”

She doesn’t want _ice cream_. Shaking her head, she pushes it off the fisherman nest and onto the floor, scrambling backwards and baring her teeth. The collar doesn't need to be off for her to kill him, she decides. She’ll take the keycard and go. Find something to take it off herself.

He sighs and rolls his eyes, walking to the box filled with drawers and retrieving… her eyes widen. Tranquilizer gun. She’s very familiar with it. She shakes her head again, this time in desperation.

“Maybe next time you’ll be a bit more grateful.” _Next time_. She shivers as he shrugs like it doesn’t matter either way.

He shoots.


End file.
